


Given Purpose

by Anonymous



Category: Lord of Heroes (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Origin Story, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Johan had a rough life in the slums before he met the future monarch of Avillon.
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	Given Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Johan is still my favorite character in this game, and working a bit with his backstory was too compelling to resist as much as I tried to work on other things or ignore this story idea.
> 
> It was a bit difficult to write and try and keep the lord neutral. I have a female lord and actually ship her with Johan, but for this story I was focusing on their early days and friendship, and I figured it was better if anyone could enjoy that regardless of their choice of lord.

* * *

Johan was his mother’s son.

From her, he learned faith, dedication, and diligence.

From his father, he learned disappointment and disillusionment, for his father was often after some quick way to be rich while his mother struggled to make any ends meet, praying constantly for help that rarely came.

Some in the slums had a way of looking out for each other, and they would all share when they could. She showed kindness to others, and they did so in return to her. She helped when she could, and she encouraged Johan to do the same, even when they had very little.

There were some that looked after him when she wasn’t able to, and others he looked after despite his age, elderly neighbors he helped with chores and errands who gave him a bit of their food as thanks. He also had some younger kids that he watched over, trying to make sure they didn’t starve even if he was close to that himself.

His mother got sick, and no amount of prayer could cure her, no amount of prayer made the doctor affordable, and his father didn’t even come back with money for her funeral. Johan did what he could for her in those last days, but it was never enough.

* * *

Everything in the slums was a fight.

Money was hard to come by, same with food, and though Johan managed to find odd jobs to here and there, it wasn’t much and it wasn’t easy to hold onto. Other kids would try and take it, and if his father was around, he assumed all the money was his. He’d been willing to share his money with his mother, but his father would usually take it and leave, so he learned to hide at least part of it away where his father wouldn’t look.

He thought sometimes he wouldn’t mind if his father left and never came back.

He ended up fighting with his father over money a lot, and it didn’t really surprise him when those fights got violent. He lost, being younger and smaller and untrained, but just as with the other kids, he became determined to win. He taught himself what he could, he used those other fights as practice, and he even found a few people who were willing to spar with him from time to time.

It still took a long time before he could consistently win against adults, even longer before he could win against his father, but he learned.

* * *

“Thank you for doing this for me,” his neighbor said, leaning heavily on his arm as they walked down the street. “I hate asking, but if I don’t have someone to go with me, I can’t carry what I need.”

“I don’t mind,” Johan said, since he knew he’d get a meal out of it, at least, and he hadn’t eaten in three days, not since he discovered his father had been and gone with all his savings again, not even leaving him enough for the rent. He’d done what he had to in order to keep the roof over their heads, but that left him without any money for food.

He’d been more than willing when Mrs. Gunther asked him to help her with her errands today.

“I’d let you do this yourself, you know,” she went on, and he nodded. He knew it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She did, but the last time she’d sent him off with money to make the purchases for her, the shopkeepers had raised the prices on him and then he’d gotten ambushed and lost everything—the food to the fight and the rest of the money to trying to buy what he could with what was left.

“I know. If I thought it would end up the same way, I’d just do that, but ever since I stood up to that gang leader and refused to join him, they’ve been coming after me every time they see me, and I don’t want them destroying your food again.”

She patted him on the head, and he sighed, wondering when he’d have the growth spurt so many other boys his age did and get taller, maybe even tall enough to make others think again about fighting him. He knew that some wouldn’t care, but if he could get them to stop without a fight, he’d prefer that.

His mother never wanted him fighting, but he didn’t know how to avoid it.

It was fight or die here, and he fought.

He prayed, too.

Sometimes he wondered if it did any good, because his mother died in spite of their prayers. His father never changed, and nothing ever seemed to get better, but sometimes they got just what they needed, and while his father called it coincidence, his mother had called it a divine blessing.

He didn’t know if praying worked, but he didn’t think it hurt, so he kept on trying.

* * *

“This is it,” his neighbor said, and he nodded, stepping back to let her look at the stall’s wares. He knew that she knew better what was safe to eat and what wasn’t, and he didn’t bother trying to help when she shopped. That never went well.

He was still standing there when the stranger passed by, looking around as if they’d never seen anything like this place before. Johan had never seen anyone before that saw something of interest or wonder here, but that expression on the stranger’s face… They had never been down in the slums before, had they? No, their clothes were too clean, not a patch in sight, and they were the right size, too. They weren’t from around here, so why were they here? No one came here if they had a choice.

He looked over to check Mrs. Gunther’s progress, though his eyes were drawn back to the stranger soon enough, and he was watching when the pickpockets started to make their move.

He saw them headed toward the stranger and looked at his neighbor. “Do you mind if I—”

“You go ahead and help, dear. I know that’s what you want to do.”

They bumped into the stranger, knocking them over and rushing away, but they’d already made their mistake in running toward him. He moved in front of them, using his position to stop the one before lunging for the other. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but he was strong enough to take the hit from the one and managed to drag the other down with him with a wince.

“Let go, you dumb goody-goody!” The thief tried to kick at him and free himself, but Johan held tight. “Let go!”

“Not until you drop what you stole.”

“Stupid idiot. You think I’m going to give it to you?”

“I think you’re going to give it back to the person you stole it from,” Johan said, since he did expect that and would make sure it happened. “You can’t take what doesn’t belong to you.”

“What does it even matter to you? You don’t know them. You’re just as poor as we are, but you’d rather starve than get a bit of what we should have? Those nobles don’t care about us. They wouldn’t even miss that money, but it’ll feed us for days.”

Johan did know that, and he’d seen plenty of people use that as a justification for theft around here, but he couldn’t agree with it. He knew how hard it was to survive, but doing something wrong just to get by didn’t make it any better. It made it a lot worse, in fact, and he didn’t wish that on anyone. He’d seen it happen too much, and he’d even been a part of it as much as he didn’t want to be. He wouldn’t go back to that, not even if he was dying and it was the only way to keep going.

“It doesn’t matter. If you destroy yourself to survive, it’s not living at all.”

He pushed aside the painful memories that had convinced him of that much, moving to take the money pouch away from the other boy. He had just gotten it when he saw a hand being held out to him. He offered them the pouch, but they took his hand instead, helping him to his feet.

“Thank you.”

The smile on the face of the stranger made Johan stop, frowning as he did. He did not understand what it was about this person that made him feel so strange, but he swore it was almost as if they’d already met. He could tell this wasn’t just some random chance meeting, no, this was going to matter to him for a long time. He didn’t know why or how he knew that, but he did.

“It was nothing. I should really get back to helping my neighbor with her shopping since that’s why I’m here,” he said, turning to leave and still feeling a bit unsettled as he did. He forced himself not to look back, but then he didn’t have to—the stranger followed him over to the stall where his neighbor waited.

“Ah, Johan. I’m afraid I was a bit muddled again today.”

He grimaced. “You forgot the money?”

“Here,” the stranger said, turning to the stall owner. “Let me.”

* * *

“This really isn’t necessary,” Mrs. Gunther said, fussing again as the stranger carried her purchases for her. Normally, Johan would have done it, but the stranger had insisted since he was helping Mrs. Gunther walk that they would carry the package. “You paid for it, and you shouldn’t have done that, but to carry it—”

“I don’t mind. As I see it, I wouldn’t even have the money to have paid for it without some help from your friend, so I may as well do my part.”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“No, it is. Not everyone has principles like yours.”

“That’s very true,” Mrs. Gunther said. “Just think of your no good father.”

Johan winced, getting a bit red. “Let’s not discuss that. We’re here, so let’s get you inside and get this food put away so you can rest.”

“I still need to make dinner.”

“I think you should rest,” Johan said, aware of just how much Mrs. Gunther had been leaning on him on the way back. She had been doing that more and more lately, but he was worried by how much she’d needed it today. Was she… He did think it was a bit like how his mother had been near the end, and he didn’t like that thought at all.

“I don’t—”

“Please rest,” the stranger urged, and somehow that ended up winning Mrs. Gunther over. He helped her to her bed and pulled the blanket over her, reminded again of the last time he’d done that for his mother.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all ending as he returned to the other room. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. She’s… rather stubborn, so I don’t think she would have rested without you asking her to.”

“I didn’t mind. I still feel a bit like I owe you, if anything.”

“Not at all. But since she’s resting, we should let her be and go. I still need to do some work and you should probably be heading home before it’s too late and you lose your way in the dark.”

“Oh, well, that’s part of why I stayed,” the stranger said with a smile. “Would you mind helping me find my way back to the town square? I have no idea where I am from there now.”

He nodded, walking the stranger back to the better part of town.

* * *

“You’re Johan, right?”

“Yes. Johan Talede,” he said, though he didn’t know that he wanted to go about using his father’s name any longer. “I’m sorry I didn’t really introduce myself before. It… It must seem like bad manners, but it… It didn’t seem necessary.”

“Because you figured you’d never see me again.”

He flushed. That was true. He didn’t expect anyone as rich as this one seemed to be to come back to the slums, and even with that feeling from earlier, the one that kept saying this person was going to change things somehow, he didn’t dare believe that. “I still don’t understand why you even bothered coming to the slums.”

“I had to see the problems for myself, and now I know what they are.”

He frowned. Why would that matter to anyone outside the slums? He supposed his mother might see this as an answer to her prayers, but he wasn’t so sure.

“There they are,” someone said, and Johan turned just in time to block one of the thieves from before as they attacked him. The other rushed the stranger, and he moved to block it, dragging his own attacker with him. He knocked one boy into the other before a third one joined the other two in fighting him. This wasn’t the first time he’d been ganged up on, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept his failure. He hadn’t heard them coming, and he couldn’t win against them, not in his weakened state. He hadn’t been able to eat, and he’d fought earlier and exhausted himself.

“Go,” he told the stranger, “get out of here. You’ll make it to the town square if you keep going north. Just run.”

“I—”

“Don’t worry about me. Just go.” Johan didn’t know that he could actually hold them back for very long, but he would buy them all the time he could. If they got away, it was enough. He had nothing to go back to, so it really didn’t matter.

“I’ll come back for you,” the stranger promised, and he frowned again, but he couldn’t think about that when one of them hit him in the side and he could no longer breathe.

* * *

When Johan woke, he was aware of the pain first, as usual, but then when he looked around, he wasn’t lying in the street again. This was… a bedroom? Under his hand was a bed, one softer than he’d ever slept in, and he was covered not in thin blankets full of holes but a full, soft blanket. This was some kind of dream, then, he supposed, and he wasn’t actually awake.

“There you are. Someone’s been pretty worried about you.”

He frowned, looking over at the figures at the end of the bed. One he recognized as the stranger who had come to the slums, but the other—was that the king? He’d only seen portraits before, but he swore that actually was the king.

“You were pretty beat up when the guards got to you,” the stranger said. “And the healers didn’t think your chances were good, either, but I made them try anyway.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“It seems my heir wasn’t content with my assessment of the situation in the slums and wanted to see it for themselves,” the king said, “and it also seems I owe you for their safe return, as you were willing to sacrifice yourself for their sake. Very noble.”

“It… wasn’t that special. Others would have done it.”

“I’d like to think so, but I’m not so trusting in others. It would not be the first time someone has tried and failed to kill my successor. Which is why they should never have left the citadel.”

“I was fine. Johan saw to that,” the heir said stubbornly. “He did it without knowing who I was, and that means people aren’t as bad as you think they are.”

“Not all of them will be like him.”

“No, but that’s why I want him for one of my knights,” the heir said, and Johan frowned. The heir faced the king with determination. “I want Johan to join the ones you wanted to train for that position. I want one that _I_ trust in that group, and he’s the one I want.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know enough,” the heir insisted, “and I will learn more later, but Johan is the one that I want for my knight. One of them, at least.”

“Very well. If he passes the training, he can stay. But only if he passes the training, and do not think for a moment they will go easy on him. His path will be difficult.”

“I believe he can do it,” the heir said, and Johan didn’t know where that faith in him came from, but this was the first person since his mother that actually had it, and he couldn’t help wanting to believe in it himself.

“I will. I’ll study hard and train hard, and I will be a knight.”

* * *

“What are you thinking about?”

“How we met, actually,” Johan said, looking over at the new monarch of Avillon. He had never regretted his choice back then, not even during the worst part of training or any of the times he’d faced odds that were against him. None of the pain had ever made him think it wasn’t worth it.

“That’s still a bit embarrassing for me.”

“Not half as much as it was when you met Fram.”

The monarch laughed. “True, that was quite a bit worse. At least all that happened was me almost losing my money purse and being rescued by a gallant knight-to-be. With Fram… I’m surprised anyone let me take the throne after that.”

“It was certainly memorable,” Johan said, smiling a bit. “But I think that it also showed just how… normal you are, how you’re not some distant ruler with no flaws and no heart but a very human one with a very large heart.”

“If you say so, then I suppose it must be true.”

“Let us not go that far,” Johan said, remembering just how embarrassing it had been to start training as a knight when he could barely read. He’d done a lot of studying and reading to counter that, and now he was considered some kind of scholar, but he knew he wasn’t that much of one. Everything he had he did owe to the monarch. He’d never forgotten that.

“I thought I already told you that you had standing orders to take the day off,” the monarch said, reaching over to touch his shoulder. “You know I understand how important it is for you to honor them.”

He nodded. He’d always had an allowance on this day, permitting him to go and pay his respects not only to his mother but also to Mrs. Gunther. “I will. I was about to leave, but I got distracted.”

“I see.”

“Would you like to come with me? I know you must have other things to do, but I still feel like I should ask.”

“As it happens, I made sure my morning was free as well. Now let’s go before Rouin finds me and says otherwise.”


End file.
